


some days turn out good

by clizzyhours



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, Helen: awkward anxiety it’s great, In which Helen is having a shitty day, Language, Mention of alcohol, aline is instantly besotted, helen is an interesting person to write for, helen’s pov, meet cute, meets a terrible bus driver and somehow manages to score a date in one day, so her POV is slightly ??? a Mess, unedited omg, would this happen to us sapphics in real life let me know if it does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clizzyhours/pseuds/clizzyhours
Summary: In which Helen is having a shitty and she bumps, well, more like nearly stumbles down bus stairs into an attractive woman named Aline.





	some days turn out good

**Author's Note:**

> for the sh fic bingo! team orange baby! prompt; in which the bus driver is terrible and we bumped, i am sorry you’re flirting with me? 
> 
> warnings: language. alcohol mention.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! please enjoy and check out the rest of the sh wlw bingo out. 💓

The rain is pouring heavily, a loud thump thump thump against Helen’s red umbrella. She can feel the water sluicing into her socks and bright colored sneakers. It’s uncomfortable and she’s preparing herself a long bus ride already. The rain enhances the humid heat in New York and the stench is putrid. She hasn’t seen the mythical giant rat creature here yet or that one alligator in the sewer story. For such a loud city, New York is surprisingly quiet in this moment with no other passerby’s rushing in a hurry along with a spectrum of littered trash and weirdness.

She’s from California personally so maybe it’s a New Yorker thing?

And so far? She’s not a fan of New York.

Her eyes scan the road again and she looks at her watch impatiently. Time is ticking away and the bus still hasn’t arrived.

She lets out an a huff and pulls out her phone from her bag, sending a quick text message to her siblings that she’ll be late.

A loud roaring noise slides the air and with a quick stop, the bus is lolling forward jerkily.

Helen gapes.

She can’t help but be scared now. The bus driver isn’t drunk, right? Please tell me this is a New Yorker thing, she desperately pleads with her inner self.

She knows all about New Yorker’s and their wild-ass driving. That has to be it, right?

She gathers the nerve to get on the teetering bus by adjusting her straps, fiddling with frizzy blonde hair and pasting a wide-teeth smile to flash at the bus driver. Helen closes her umbrella, letting the water drip onto the ground. 

Her sneakers make a squelch on the bus’s stairs and she feels a blast of heat hitting her immediately.

“Hi,” She says, smiling widely. “Thank you so much.”

The bus driver looks unimpressed, his bushy eyebrows staring at her non-passively. 

There are several blemishes on his once white shirt, she can’t help but notice. But that’s okay, she reassures herself.

Helen has many siblings and she’s used to messy antics such as paint splattered clothing, shaving cream in a shampoo bottle, and fallen pasta sauce stains on a pure white carpet that made her father yell non-pleasantly.

It had been a hell of a time, really.

“Money?” he states, staring at her like she challenged him to a duel.

She quickly shuffles the fee into the bus driver’s hands and scurries down, determined to hide away in a corner like a quiet little mouse.

The worn seats are filled with a handful of people, young and old, a plethora of different races and ethnicities and cultures.

New York is like California in that regard - a diverse melting pot with endless buildings and people and opportunities.

Helen sits towards the back, sliding into an empty seat. Her stuff is carefully deposited on the floor near her wet sneakers and ugh, yeah, she despises this wet feeling. Her socks are sopping and there’s a chill crawling up her body. A New York City dream right here, everyone.

The heat is unbearable as well, blasting full-front.

How can everyone stand it? She wonders. It’s summer and the bus driver has the heat on. She feels like she is being boiled alive.

It hasn’t been a particularly good day with the weather and the heat and how awful she has been feeling about herself lately. The bus being late and the bus driver’s lovely mannerisms are the top of the cake.

It’s like everything little thing is going wrong for her. 

And god, she’s meant to be meeting her siblings at their hotel for a reserved dinner at seven tonight. There’s only a certain amount of time until dinner, she can’t help but note after glancing down at her watch.

Helen moves uncomfortably in her seat as the bus continues to lurch forward, driving slightly skewered.

It’s either really bad New York driving or really bad driving from the bus driver in general.

She is placing her bets on the second option.

Helen passes the time by playing on her phone and scrolling through social media aimlessly.

Her eyes look up again and she spies a dark ponytail. An angry white man. Nope. No. Abort. She doesn’t want to get murdered on a bus. How would she explain that to her siblings? To her father? She would be dead and most likely sliced and diced and thrown into the ocean. Okay, so yes she really enjoys watching crime shows and law documentaries. She’s a criminal studies major after all. An old black man wearing reading glasses and reading a newspaper. A mom struggling to quiet her crying children, her brown hands soothing their hair down gently. 

Every so often, she sees the bus driver glaring into the overhead mirror. His eyes flickers towards her and she finds herself hunching down. 

She shudders internally. 

She glances at her phone again, busying herself once more.

The bus’s jerky motion continues and she has to bite down on her lip to keep from heaving. The heat is unbearable and she would absolutely murder for an icy water right now.

After what feels like forever, the bus comes to an abrupt stop and she slides out of her seat with the motion.

The bus drivers shouts something - more of a grumble, really. People are beginning to get up from their seats, sliding down the rubbery texture and gathering their materials.

She remains seated as her stop is next. The dark-haired ponytail also remains and nearly the rest of the people have trickled out, very few people still here.

Helen doesn’t blame them.

The bus jerks forward after the doors shut, weaving into busy traffic. Rain putters down the window and she sighs, pressing her face against the cool metal.

Isn’t that ironic, she bitterly thinks.

A call-out is instantaneous - the next stop and she wishes could scream from joy because finally her godawful nightmare of a trip is over-with.

The bus stops jerkily again, the doors squeaking open to pelting rain. 

Helen hastily picks up her items and slides from her seat, joining the puttering sea of people out the doors. 

She wants to tell the few stragglers to hurry up and let her off this godawful bus. Please, please, hurry, she urges them. Oh. Oh no, she’s nearing the front and she can see the bus driver twiddling a cigar, puffs of smoke disappearing into the air.

She coughs loudly as the smoke hits her, choking a quick thank you out, and somehow manages to stumble into a person and they nearly collide out of the bus together.

“Are you that happy to see me?” The person - a young woman says. Her voice is melodic and god, she really is a goddamn cliche.

“W-what?” Helen stutters out. The young woman is of Asian descent - the same woman she must of saw sitting earlier on the bus with her sleek ponytail. Her smile is pretty, she thinks.

“I know I look good but do I impress that much?” The young woman teases again. 

Helen blinks, unable to compute.

“I’m sorry but are you flirting with me?” She manages to choke out. The woman winks and quickly rights them up, the bus driver snarling behind them. 

Oh. They are the only ones left on the bus.

The bus driver yells this time and yeah, time to go.

Helen stumbles from the bus in an panic as the woman trails behind, her purse spilling down her pink off the shoulder top. 

“But seriously, are you flirting with me?” Helen asks bluntly, astonished as hell. 

This never happens. It really does not. 

Her experience with men and woman is zilch. The last time she went on a date was such a disaster and every time her siblings urge her to meet somebody, she shies away.

She spent high school as a busybody bookworm, juggling AP and college classes until it nearly killed her. 

So yes. Her dating experience? It’s not a Thing At All. 

The woman smiles and says, “Hi, I am Aline and I am flirting with you. Yes, you mysterious woman and yeah, the bus driver was pretty goddamn awful.” It’s teasing and light and heartfelt. 

“Oh,” She utters. Flirting? Bus driver? Her mind is like an ancient computer slowly downloading data. 

Pretty Aline is staring at her with gentle eyes and a smile. She doesn’t know how to react. She really wants to react positively.

“I saw your reaction quite a few times,” Aline murmurs. “And yeah? Same. 0/10. Do not recommend ever again.”

She shudders visibly. 

“You noticed me?” Helen inquires, asks.

“How could I not?” 

Oh, she thinks again.

The rain is pouring as they talk and god, they have been engrossed in this shambles of a banter for minutes now. 

“We should move out of the rain, perhaps?” Helen says, gesturing to the bus station interior and rickety wooden bench inside. Aline nods, an acquiescence.

Helen and Aline manage to make their way to the bus stop, sitting on the bench in the little interior of a station as the rain heavily pours from above. The inside is small but weirdly comfortable, giving them temporary shelter.

“I didn’t get your name,” Aline speaks again and god, she really is the one doing all the talking? Helen feels a flare of regret immensely.

“Helen!” She nearly shouts, eyes widening.

“I am Helen Blackthorn,” she says more calmly, hoping her anxiety isn’t evident.

She’s not good with people and especially not with a pretty woman who has taken a keen interest in her. Oh god. She doesn’t even know why the woman seems to like her either.

Aline laughs delightedly. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Helen Blackthorn.” 

Helen smiles, her tension slowly easing away.

Maybe she can do this? Flirting? 

“The bus driver kept staring at me with those beady eyes,” Helen murmurs, silently thinking back to the inexhaustible heat and smoke and aura.

“He would stare more at the passengers than he would pay attention to the road. Not that his driving was any better,” Aline states, shuddering again. “New York City is always hell of a time when I visit.”

“You’re visiting?” Helen asks, intrigued now. Another traveler like her?

“I have been visiting friends and there’s a wedding I am also attending this weekend.” 

“That’s funny,” Helen murmurs. “I also have a wedding to attend this weekend.”

“You do?” Aline inquires, her hand resting closely to Helen’s.

“My friend Magnus is getting married to Alec.”

Aline laughs again and Helen feels a spike of warmth rushing through her.

She’s so easy to talk with, she thinks.

“What?” She asks.

“My friend Alec is getting to married to Magnus.”

Oh. Well then.

“Isn’t that kind of ironic?” Helen teases, sliding closer to Aline unconsciously.

“A small world indeed,” Aline says, dark eyes flickering to Helen’s lips.

The tension is broken quickly, a loud ring disturbing the air.

“Shit!” Helen fumbles for her phone and gives a pleading look to Aline who simply nods.

“Yes! I mean hello!” 

“Where are you?” is what she hears from the tinny speaker, one of her siblings demanding.

Shit. Shit. She forgot all about the dinner tonight.

“I’m on my way,” Helen says as Aline peers curiously at her every so often. She mouths ‘hold on, please’ and Aline nods again.

Her mouth moved faster than her brain. “Can I bring somebody with me?” 

“At this point, I don’t care if you bring a circus, Helen! Just get here before our father throws a fit.” 

Helen nods. Right. Her sibling can’t see her.

“Yes; I am on my way right now.”

“Good!” She hears before being hung up on.

“A dinner, huh?” Aline says when Helen walks closer.

“You heard all that?”

“It’s a little bit difficult not to when you are standing a few feet away and the person on the ending is yelling,” Aline says with a laugh. 

Okay. Yeah. That’s a valid point.

“And with someone?” Aline says, slow and coy-like. It’s really attractive.

“I don’t mean to presume, I am sorry - I just - blurted, oh, I am sorry,” Helen rambles.

“Slow down, Helen. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“It is?”

“I want you to presume. I have been flirting with you this whole time and to be honest, I got on the bus to escape frivolities for a while.”

“Okay,”

“Yeah?” Aline says.

“Yeah.”

She sits back down and Aline gives her an amused look.

“Shouldn’t we be going?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we should be,” Helen says, gathering up her materials quickly. Aline brings her hand to Helen’s, interlocking their fingers together.

“Now lead the way, Miss Blackthorn,” Aline says, opening up an expansive umbrella for them to walk under together. 

Together, they walk into the New York street, fingers interlocked tightly and sharing a knowing smile between them as they see their former bus veer off-track.


End file.
